They’d tell you they’re sorry,
While you stare at the floor;
Wondering how on earth,
A part of you is now gone;
Their words sound so foreign,
Till your love’s name comes up;
Every mention- a drill,
Burning a hole in your heart,
They’d tell you they’re sorry,
And you wonder what for-
It wasn’t their fault,
Heck it wasn’t anyone;
You envision them strolling to
The arms of their love;
Looking down through welled eyes,
At the emptiness of yours.
They’d tell you they’re sorry,
And that they understand,
But you know they cannot fathom
The loss you incurred,
So you nod as they murmur
Words, meant to comfort-
Praying to God, he Is at much
Much more peace, than you are.
Randoms by a Random 